Scrambled Eggs

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Scrambled Eggs!

Young Daniel put his dad’s boots on,

Rather than his own.

His own boots – they were fine,

But his dad’s boots stood alone.

They were spacious – very roomy,

The same length as his legs.

And what was more he found

That there was room to put the eggs!

By Louise McCarthy

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MEGHAN MARKLE’S MOUSE

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MEGHAN MARKLE’S MOUSE

My home is my castle — Windsor Castle —

And I live in St George’s Chapel;

Being a mouse I go foraging

for some crumbs and pieces of apple.

My chapel is mostly a peaceful place,

But no!  Not on the nineteenth of May:

won’t have a moment to bless myself

when the world comes to visit that day.

They’re making history on May nineteen,

and there will be no time to tarry —

but I’ll have a front row seat to see

Meghan Markle marry Prince Harry!

I’ll hide underneath Her Majesty’s chair —

that should give me an excellent view —

and I’ll wave my tail and squeak hooray

when Meghan and Harry say I do!

                                                               James Aitchison

A Clogyrnach

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A CLOGYRNACH GOES

TO THE DENTIST

           (A clogyrnach is a six-line Welsh poem.  

           Lines 1 and 2 have eight syllables with an a rhyme;

           lines 3 and 4 have five syllables with a b rhyme;

           line 5 has three syllables with a b rhyme;

           line 6 has three syllables with an a rhyme.)

I went to the dentist last week;

he opened my mouth for a peek.

When he saw inside,    

his eyes goggled wide.

What he spied

made him shriek.

The news he gave me was chilling,

All of your front teeth need filling;

they’re full of decay,

I’ll fix them today!

I said, “Yay!

start drilling!”

He was deftly wielding his drill        

when he sneezed as though he were ill!

He bored through my gum

drilled into my bum —

“Sorry, chum,

here’s my bill.”

My time in his chair had been brief,

full of torture, terror and grief!

Let my teeth all fall —

no dentist I’d call!

After all —

who needs teeth?

          James Aitchison

Don’t Let the Chickens Do Your Homework

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Don’t Let the Chickens Do Your Homework

 

Rosie Fields and Ruby Brooks

were capable and clever chooks.

When the friendly household boys

took them shiny chicken toys,

the ladies clucked, “We’d rather books!”

 

Those boys called Simon, Steve, and Stan,

came up with a crafty plan:

“The weather is so fresh and cool,

the chooks could do our work from school.

We’ll jump in puddles while we can.”

 

They brought their books out to the hens

and gave them paper pads and pens.

They jumped in boots of brightest red

while chickens did their maths instead…

But chooks don’t know their twos from tens.

 

They put their teacher in a spin

when they turned those answers in.

“Scritch scratch squawk

and bok bwok bwuawk.”

She tossed it all straight in the bin.

Kylie  Covark 

Prompt #12 Worm Weather

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Continuing on from the Autumn theme here is a picture prompt. At school I lead the garden club and once a week we open up the worm farm for students to see, feed and check on the worms. The students love to do this and learn about the worms and how the worm tea helps the plants grow.

Please send poems to:

poemoftheday.jaxton@gmail.com

A few notes:

The  CJ Dennis Poetry Competition is now open

Check it out at:

http://www.thecjdennissociety.com/

And Refugee Week is coming up from the 17th to the 23rd of June. Here is a link to the site which includes the aims of the week

https://www.refugeeweek.org.au/about/overview/

Maybe a few of you can start thinking about writing on that theme

Thankyou

Cheers

Jeanie

And today’s quote: